Encore
by Marcus Rowland
Summary: Sunnydale's most annoying demon hunter returns from the grave to lend a helping hand. COMPLETE
1. Risen from the Grave

This is a BtVS story, for once not a crossover, a sequel to a Season 1 episode. It's set some time in early season seven, before the Potentials start to arrive in Sunnydale. There will probably be spoilers for earlier seasons. Work in progress. 

All characters are the intellectual property of their respective creators, film companies, etc.; this story may not be sold or distributed on a profit-making basis. 

I'm British, so's my spelling. Live with it. 

* * *

**Encore**

_By Marcus L. Rowland_

I 

So I'm in heaven, or limbo, or whatever the hell you want to call it, and I realise something. 

It's boring. 

Boring in a good way, I guess, everything's nice and loving and peaceful and all the rest of that stuff, but kinda... bland, I guess you'd call it. Most of the guys and girls from my generation are long gone, evolved into higher beings or reincarnated or whatever, I'm left with the retards and people young enough to be my grandkids. All good, all wonderful people, don't get me wrong, but not exactly my types, and they act like wanting a cigar or a slug of decent liquor is kinda... evil, I guess. 

So, to cut a long story short, I guess the Powers That Be realised I wasn't quite as ecstatic as I should have been. So they decided to make me an offer I couldn't refuse. They send me back to Earth for a while, I run a few errands, I go back and maybe I'll get to ascend or whatever a little faster. It sounded too good to be true. 

Next time I look at the small print. 

* * * * *

So where the hell am I? 

Lying on my back. In the dark. In some sort of box. Coffin? No, the wood feels way too rough. Just some sort of box, maybe a packing crate. I feel kind of odd. Alive, but not alive in a human sort of way. Am I breathing? Nope. Do I have a heartbeat? Nope again. This can't be good. Somehow I know I've already been screwed. 

I put my hands up to push against the lid, and realise that I'm feeling really stiff. As stiff as any stiff that ever rose from the grave, and then some. Not pleasant, but unfortunately not entirely unfamiliar. The cheap bastards haven't even given me a new body! 

Okay, so nothing to be gained by crying over spilled booze, not that I can cry anyway. Even like this I'm strong, and it doesn't take long to punch my way through the wood at the end of the box. It's rotting, and I suppose I'm lucky that it didn't collapse or fill with bugs. Maybe the Powers were protecting my body, they're tricky that way and might have realised I'd be needing it. 

Needless to say the box is buried. The earth is dry, fortunately, and doesn't feel like it's packed too badly, so it only takes me a couple of hours to dig myself out. I come up on a little patch of lawn at the back of a house. If they were bothered by gophers, wait until they get a look at the mess I've just made. 

I have a feeling that I won't have to look far for the dame I'm after, and I'm right. There's an old packing crate on the back porch, half-full of logs, and a torn label on it reads "Joyce Summers, 1630 Rovello Drive". Must be the Slayer's mom. Hope she hasn't got a heart condition. 

As the sun starts to rise I get a piece of wood and rap on the door, then decide I'd better play it cool until I'm with the Slayer. So I sit down and wait. 

Three or four minutes later a kid in furry slippers opens the door, looking around kind of nervous. I notice she takes care not to step out until she's sure nobody is lurking there. She's young, about the same age as the Slayer the last time I saw her, and she's cute, really cute. Limber... Nubile... It's all I can do not to give her a wolf whistle. 

She notices me, eventually, and reaches down to pick me up. Holds me up, in a kind of interesting position. She takes a look at me, and I get a good look at her cleavage. Hubba hubba. 

Behind her I hear the Slayer say "What is it, Dawn?" 

She turns and says "Look, Buffy, someone's left an old ventriloquist's dummy on the back porch." 

My cue to turn my head, wriggle my eyebrows and say "Hiya toots. It's me, Sid. I'm back." 

Of course the kid drops me on my head. Good thing it's made of wood. 

_To Be Continued_


	2. Brides of Chucky

This is a BtVS story, for once not a crossover, a sequel to a Season 1 episode. It's set some time in early season seven, before the Potentials start to arrive in Sunnydale. There will probably be spoilers for earlier seasons. Work in progress. 

All characters are the intellectual property of their respective creators, film companies, etc.; this story may not be sold or distributed on a profit-making basis. 

I'm British, so's my spelling. Live with it. 

* * *

**Encore**

_By Marcus L. Rowland_

II 

The situation at this point is just a little confused. The kid is freaking out, backing away from me, you'd think she'd never seen a dummy before. The Slayer, who was a pretty kid and is now _really_ hot in tight leather pants and a low-cut top, has grabbed an axe from somewhere and is stalking me like I was some sort of demon. 

"Okay, okay," I say "put the axe down, Slayer, slow and careful, you don't want to hurt me. I know it's a surprise, but it's really me. Sid." 

"You _know_ this thing?" asks the kid. 

"Maybe, if it's what it says it is. Okay, you got any way to prove who you are, and not some evil Chucky clone?" 

"Who else would it be? Like I always say, once you go wood, there's nothing as good." 

"Oh god, it _is_ him," says the Slayer, and absent-mindedly hits a chair with the axe. 

"Buffy, why did you slay the chair?" asks the kid nervously. 

"Slay the... oops. Dawn, go and get dressed, and make sure it's something that's wooden pervert proof. And get Willow. I'll explain when you get back down. As for you," she turns to me and raises the axe again, "one more remark like that near my little sister and it's firewood time. Understood?" 

"Okay, Slayer, spoil my fun. Understood." 

"Let me get breakfast, then you can explain what it is you want when Dawn gets back. And this had better not be a social call..." 

* * * * *

The kid runs off and the Slayer picks me up and taken me into the kitchen, where she dumps me on a high stool. "Stay there, I want you where I can keep an eye on you." 

"Slayer, is that any way to treat a fellow demon-hunter?" 

"I still have nightmares about that talent show... and cheese, for some reason... but I guess it wasn't really your fault. Can I get you anything? Toast? Waffles? Furniture polish?" 

"I'm fine. Not like I need to eat or anything." 

"Okay, let me get started on the waffles and coffee. I want my brain working before you start with the explanations." 

The kid clatters back downstairs about five minutes later, which has to be some sort of record for a teenager, and is followed by a woman I sort of remember, the red-head that used to hang with the Slayer. She's all grown too, and is as hot as the Slayer in a distracted sort of way. If I wasn't wood I'd be drooling. 

"Willow," says the Slayer, "you remember Sid?" 

"Oh.. Sid? Sid the dummy??" She looks like she's seen a ghost. 

"In the wood, toots." 

"This is so cool," says the kid. "Is it an evil dummy like in Bride of Chucky?" 

"Nope. They haven't made me a bride yet, unless one of you is thinking of volunteering..." 

"Ewww..." say all three of them, more or less in chorus. The Slayer picks up a kitchen knife and seems to be calculating throwing angles, so I shut up. 

"Okay," says the Slayer eventually, once they've all stuffed their faces, "what's the story?" 

"I got bored in heaven, and the Powers That Be said I could do a job for them." 

"But you were... dead? And in heaven?" 

"I was dead sixty years ago, toots, but my soul got stuck in the dummy instead of going on. When I got to heaven it was okay for a while, but I missed the action and the demon hunting. Peace is okay for a while, but I like things loud and wild, like my women..." 

She's aiming the knife again, so I can it. 

"So you came back as a dummy? Why?" 

"Damned if I know. I thought they were going to give me a proper body. Instead I get this one again, and I'm sure it's got woodworm." 

"No, I meant why are you back?" 

"I've got to... uh..." Suddenly I realise. I have no idea why the Powers want me here, or what I'm supposed to do. _To Be Continued_


	3. We're on a mission from God

This is a BtVS story, for once not a crossover, a sequel to a Season 1 episode. It's set some time in early season seven, before the Potentials start to arrive in Sunnydale. There will probably be spoilers for earlier seasons. Work in progress. 

All characters are the intellectual property of their respective creators, film companies, etc.; this story may not be sold or distributed on a profit-making basis. 

I'm British, so's my spelling. Live with it. 

* * *

**Encore**

_By Marcus L. Rowland_

III 

"Well?" says the Slayer. I search my memory. Suddenly it has more holes than a Swiss cheese. I can remember my life perfectly, right up to the moment I killed my final demon and went to heaven, then it's all blurred. I can't remember anything specific about heaven. I can't remember a damned thing about my mission. Do I think I can bluff my way through this? Maybe. Better than what the Slayer would do if I told her the truth? Only one way to find out... 

"...Got to do something that I'm not allowed to tell you about." 

"Can you tell anyone else?" 

"Nope." 

"Is it larger or smaller than a breadbox?" asks the kid. 

"This isn't twenty questions, Dawn," says the Slayer. At the same time I get an odd feeling; whatever it is, whatever I have to do, involves something smaller than a breadbox. Hey, this might work. 

"Well, if you twist my arm... it's smaller." 

"Are you under a spell that stops you from telling us directly?" asks the redhead. 

"Something like that, toots." 

"Okay then, good thing it's Saturday. Let's take it from the top. Animal, vegetable, or mineral..." 

About fifty questions later we've established that I have to do something concerning some sort of statue or doll. It's smaller than I am, and made of metal and plastic. 

"Are you sure about this?" asks Willow. "Sounds kind of odd materials for some sort of mystic whatsit." 

"Sure enough, toots." 

"Metal inside the plastic, like some sort of robot?" 

"Nope." 

"Plastic inside the metal, like... er.. some other sort of robot?" 

"Nope." 

"I know!" says Dawn, "Metal on a plastic base?" 

"That's it, toots." 

"Some sort of trophy?" 

"Bingo. Give the girl a coconut." 

A door slams somewhere in the house, and a man's voice shouts "Buffy?" 

"In the kitchen, Xander," says the Slayer. Xander... that kid who spent a couple of hours making fun of the Slayer for thinking I was alive. Oh yeah, I remember him. 

"Did you know that a dog or something has been digging up your lawn and..." He sees me "...holy crap, what did you dig that up for?" 

"Nice to see you again too, kid." I say. He collapses onto a stool, looking shaken. Sometimes it's fun to be me. 

"Sid?" 

"In the wood, kid. I'm back." 

"To which the only answer is a heartfelt 'huh?'. You said you were going to heaven. What went wrong?" 

"Got bored, got sent back to do a job, they gave me the same damned body." 

"You got sent back from heaven on a mission? We so have to get you a black suit and a hat." 

"What for?" 

"So that I can get one too and say 'we're on a mission from God.'" 

"Yuck it up, kid, any more and I'll tell them about you sticking your hand up my ass." 

"I didn't... well, maybe, when I thought you were a dummy." 

"Pervert." 

"Both of you knock it off," says the Slayer. "We still have to figure out what this trophy thing is, and where we can find it." 

"Trophy?" says Xander. 

"Sid's mission has something to do with a trophy, but he can't tell us what it is, we're having to find out by asking questions." 

"Ooh, can I play? Is it larger or smaller than a breadbox?" 

"We've been there already, Xander. Whatever he has to do concerns a trophy, a statue made of metal and plastic. Any ideas?" 

"Buffy, Buffy, do you have to ask? What's sitting on top of the Hellmouth?" 

"Sunnydale High?" 

"And what's Sunnydale High?" 

"A school?" 

"And what do schools have?" 

"Oh... Trophy cases, of course." 

"And where is the Xand-man still doing some detailing work?" 

"Let me take a wild guess and say Sunnydale High." 

"Correct. Which means I have the keys and we can get in today without an audience." 

"Okay. Let's have some coffee then hit the road." 

_To Be Continued_


	4. Smaller than a Breadbox

This is a BtVS story, for once not a crossover, a sequel to The Talent Show. It's set some time in early season seven, before the Potentials start to arrive in Sunnydale. There are spoilers for earlier seasons. Work in progress. 

All characters are the intellectual property of their respective creators, film companies, etc.; this story may not be sold or distributed on a profit-making basis. 

I'm British, so's my spelling. Live with it. 

* * *

**Encore**

_By Marcus L. Rowland_

IV 

We piled into the Slayer's Jeep and drove out to Sunnydale High. It looked different to the school I remembered. Modernised, a lot more concrete, and a lot less attractive. Same evil Hellmouth feel to it though. 

"So..." I ask, "what was wrong with the old school, that they had to knock it down and build this bunker instead." 

"We kind of blew it up," says Xander. "Had to, to stop the Mayor ascending as a giant demon snake." 

"And they rebuilt it on the same site? Were they crazy?" 

"Go ask City Hall. My guess, the bastards thought it'd be cheaper than rebuilding the school from scratch. At least the Hellmouth isn't under the library any more." 

"Where is it then?" 

"Under Principal Wood's office," says the Slayer. 

"And where are the trophies?" 

"Just outside the office." 

"Wonderful," I say, "how come you know your way around so well?" 

"I work here as a student counsellor." 

"So no trouble with you being here?" 

"No... Willow, Dawn, if anyone asks I'm picking up a couple of case files, you've just tagged along with me because we're going to the Mall afterwards." 

"Okay," says the girl. "Sid had better keep quiet though." 

"No problem," I say. "I'll just dummy up." Everyone groans, it's the way I tell them. Xander finally finds the keys, switches off the alarm, and lets us in. 

The place is quiet... too quiet. Feels like someone or something is deadening the sound. Could be magic, or the influence of the Hellmouth. 

"You do your detailing," says the Slayer to Xander, "We'll check out the trophies." 

"Okay. Shouldn't take me long, I'm just measuring up for some extra benches in the computer lab." He heads off one way, we go in the opposite direction. 

"Here we are," says the Slayer a couple of minutes later. There are four cases, all of them crammed with trophies and a lot of them are statues. Finding the right one will be a bitch. 

"Willow, do you and Dawn want to try this, I think you're better at this game than I am." 

"Okay," says the redhead, and takes me in her arms. She has to be a mind-reader, because she immediately says "Look down my blouse again and it's matchstick time." 

"Moi?" I say. 

"Don't push your luck, short and flammable," says the Slayer. Dawn just giggles. 

"Let's start with cases," says Willow. "Is it in this case?" 

"Nope." 

"This one?" 

"Nope." 

She keeps going, and soon we've ruled out all four cases. 

"Okay, I'm obviously asking the wrong questions. Is it in the school?" 

"Uh.. No." 

"Was it once in the school?" 

"Yes." 

"I've got it," says Dawn, "Was it in the old school before it was destroyed?" 

"Yes." 

"Is there a trophy here that replaced the one that we're looking for?" 

"Yes." 

"Willow, can you narrow it down again?" asks the Slayer. 

"Sure.." 

We found the right one just as Xander got back: 

"Is it the cheerleading trophy third from the right?" 

"Yes, gorgeous, that's the one." 

"Finally, thank the goddess. Xander, you hold him for a while, he's drooling on my arm." 

"I don't have spit to drool, Red, but if I did I'd drool it for you." 

"Some people just don't change," says Xander. "Which one did you say?" 

Willow says "The cheerleading trophy." 

"That one's new, you can see that the metal isn't worn from cleaning." 

"We think it's the replacement for one that was damaged in the fire or the explosion. It's the original that we're going to have to find." 

"Yeah... Hey, look at the list of winners on the side." 

The Slayer finally takes an interest. "Mabel Clarke. Judith Wu. Catherine... oh crap. Catherine Madison. Amy's mom, the wicked witch of the West. Or is that the East?" 

"I just remembered something about the original trophy," says Xander. "One time Oz and I were talking about cheerleaders, and I remember he said that there was this one trophy that had eyes that seemed to follow him around." 

"We never did find out what happened to Catherine's soul..." says Willow, in a sort of hollow voice. "Sid, is it trapped inside the original trophy? Like you were trapped in the dummy?" 

"Uh... yeah, it is." 

"All we have to do now is find it," says Dawn, then pretends to act surprised when everyone glares at her. 

_To Be Continued_


	5. Such an Inspiring Example

This is a BtVS story, for once not a crossover, a sequel to The Talent Show. It's set some time in early season seven, before the Potentials start to arrive in Sunnydale. There are spoilers for earlier seasons. Work in progress. 

All characters are the intellectual property of their respective creators, film companies, etc.; this story may not be sold or distributed on a profit-making basis. 

I'm British, so's my spelling. Live with it. 

* * *

**Encore**

_By Marcus L. Rowland_

V 

The Slayer says "I don't think we should discuss this here. Let's go somewhere that isn't twenty feet from the Hellmouth." 

Everyone heads back to the car, and we drive over to a shop called The Magic Box, about what you'd expect to find in a town like Sunnydale. There are jars of chicken feet and slug-wax candles, and a really gorgeous blonde behind the counter who doesn't seem to be particularly pleased to see us. 

"Hi, Anya," says Xander, "Okay to do some research?" 

"Fine," she says, "leave me at the altar then come to me when you want to use my books. Just don't wear them out." 

There's something familiar about that voice. Anya? Where do I... I twist round in Willow's arms to get a better look. 

"Thanks," says the Slayer. "We've got something really odd to research, can't think of anywhere better to do it." 

"Willow," says Anya, eyeing me warily "Why are you cuddling a midget?" 

"It's not a midget, it's a ventriloquist's dummy. It's Sid." 

"Sid? I used to know a..." 

"Annie? Anyanka?" I say, "Thought it was you. How'ya doing, toots, how's the vengeance business?" 

"Oh my," she says, patting her hair, "Sid! I heard you'd finally completed your vengeance and moved on." 

"Got bored, came back. How long has it been, girl, thirty years?" 

"You know this wooden pervert?" asks Xander. Anya comes round the counter, takes me from Willow, and kisses me on the head. The top two buttons of her blouse are open, hubba hubba! 

"All of us vengeance demons know of Sid," she says, holding me to her body and pillowing my head in a very interesting way. "It was such a powerful spell that trapped him in that body, but despite it he came back to wreak bloody revenge on the demons that did it to him, although it took him nearly seventy years to get them all. We weren't allowed to help him, that was part of the curse, but we were all so pleased to see him make good and kill the Brotherhood of Seven. Such an inspiring example!" 

"But you've actually, um, met him?" 

"Of course. Do you think I'd pass up a chance to meet him? We had a wonderful night together in London in seventy-four." 

"You and Sid... wonderful night...?" 

"You know what they say, Xander. Once you go wood..." 

We finish together "...there's nothing as good." and start laughing. 

"Oh god," says Xander, "and I thought Spike was bad..." 

* * * * *

Eventually we're sat around a table at the back of the shop, talking about the trophy. Willow starts asking me questions again, but for some reason it isn't working, I have no idea of the answers. 

"How can that be?" asks Willow. "Don't the Powers That Be want you to help us?" 

"I guess they think you know enough now, I've been cut off." 

"Poor Sid," says Anya, cuddling me again, "but that is so absolutely typical of the so-called Powers. Give people just enough information to get themselves into trouble, then leave them to fend for themselves. Now, if you work for the Dark Powers they keep you informed..." 

"Thanks for the sales pitch, Anya," says Willow, "but I still don't want to work for D'Hoffryn." 

"Well, never mind, sooner or later you'll want to kill someone else painfully, and we'll be there for you." 

Someone else? Sounds like I've missed a lot over the last few years. 

"Okay," says Xander, "Quickly changing the subject, if you were a sports trophy from the old Sunnydale High where would you be?" 

"In the new Sunnydale High?" asks Anya. 

"Nope, checked there." 

"Stolen by one of Xander's building crew?" 

"Nope again, the site was already clear when we started, and hey I resent that, my guys are honest. But it might just have been taken by someone on the crew that cleared the site, and that's something I can check." 

"Any other possibilities?" asks the Slayer. 

"Landfill? Firemen? Someone took it as a souvenir?" says Anya. 

"Why would anyone want a souvenir of a disaster?" asks Willow. 

"Search me," says Xander, "why would anyone want to buy part of the shuttle, or the world trade centre?" 

"That's a thought," says Anya, "Have you tried eBay yet?" 

"That's just the sick sort of thing... that someone interested only in money might do. Can you check it for us?" 

Smooth recovery, Xander, maybe there's hope for you yet. 

"Let me see..." Anya hands me to Dawn, who sits me on the table, then goes behind the counter and uses a computer. "Huh, the Urn of Osiris was easy, there was only one of those, but there are hundreds of items under Sunnydale, including some bricks from the old school - fifty dollars reserve for one brick, they've got to be kidding. Nope, can't see it there." 

"But those are just the current auctions, aren't they?" asks Willow, looking over her shoulder. "Can you search on older auctions, things that have already been sold, maybe narrow it down a bit. Try a search with Sunnydale and Trophy, or Sunnydale and Cheer-leading." 

"Okay... here it is. Sold this spring, went for eighteen hundred dollars and change." 

"Any way to find out who bought it?" 

"Not that I can see." 

"Let me try," says Willow. "Good thing I put some hacking tools on your computer. Okay, bidder number is.... encryption... huh... and there she goes. Sold to J. Levinson, Sunnydale, California." 

"Jonathan?" asks Xander. "Jonathan bought the trophy?" 

"Looks like it. Something like that would have a lot of magical power, and the delivery address is that house the nerds had booby-trapped with the buzz-saws." 

"Jonathan? How the hell do we track him down?" asks the Slayer. "Last thing anyone heard he was headed out of town and probably well on his way to Mexico." 

"Don't know," says Willow, "but we might as well start with the house. You said they left in a heck of a hurry, they might just have left the trophy behind, or some clue to where we might find it." 

_To Be Continued_


	6. Just think of Pinnochio

This is a BtVS story, for once not a crossover, a sequel to The Talent Show. It's set some time in early season seven, before the Potentials start to arrive in Sunnydale. There are spoilers for earlier seasons. Work in progress. 

All characters are the intellectual property of their respective creators, film companies, etc.; this story may not be sold or distributed on a profit-making basis. 

I'm British, so's my spelling. Live with it. 

* * *

**Encore**

_By Marcus L. Rowland_

VI 

We get in the Jeep for another ride, and Anya decides to close the shop for an hour or two and come along. Fortunately there's just about room for everyone, though it's a little crowded. I'm kinda sandwiched between Anya and Buffy, not a bad place to be if you can ignore the Slayer's occasional comments about my hands if I accidentally touch her. Like she's really going to cut my arms off and use them as stakes, I ask you. 

"I didn't find any clues when I searched after they left," says Buffy, "but I was only in there about three minutes, dodging the buzzsaws and grabbing all the papers I could find. They really went to ground after that." 

"Do you think the booby traps are still there?" asks Dawn, which I suppose is a good question. 

"I doubt it - the place was pretty badly cut up by the time I got out, sounded like it was collapsing. I think they self-destructed. I'll go in first though and check it out, just to be on the safe side." 

"Well, the house is still standing," says Xander as we arrive. "Let's see if the owner is around first, they've probabably done some repairs, might know what happened to the trophy. We don't want to break in if there's an alternative." 

"Okay," says Buffy, "You try that, we'll wait out here for you." 

Xander goes off to look for the landlord, and Buffy turns to Anya and says "What's this about you and Sid?" 

"Like I said, we spent a night together in London in the seventies." 

"That's right," I say, "a night of searing passion." 

"And somehow I'm not buying this," says Buffy, "kinda small, isn't he?" 

Anya smiles, and says "Just think of Pinnochio, only lower..." 

Willow, Buffy, and Dawn chorus "Ewww," but even I can see they haven't fallen for it. There's an awkward silence. 

"All right," Anya says eventually, "We didn't so much make out as pass out. I used a spell to let Sid get drunk for a few hours, and he told me all about his revenge. It was a great party, and I could justify giving him momentary pleasure by inflicting a hangover on him afterwards." 

"It was worth it," I say. 

"But don't tell Xander yet," says Anya, "I want him to suffer." 

"No more than a couple of days," says Buffy. 

"A week." 

"Monday." 

"Wednesday." 

"Tuesday." 

"Done." All four shake on it, and are giggling together when Xander comes back with the owner, an old geezer (well, young compared to me but a lot older than the Slayer and her pals) who spends the next ten minutes or so complaining about the damage the geeks have done to his basement apartment. Says it's dangerous to go in there. Xander offers to take a look and quote for repairs. There are a couple of hard hats in the back of the Jeep, and he and Buffy put them on and go in, while Willow and Anya prowl around the yard trying to detect the statue magically. As far as I can tell this accomplishes zip. Meanwhile Dawn is pumping me for stories about celebrities I've met over the years, and I'm telling her a pack of lies since demons and demon hunters don't exactly hang out with the rich and famous. The guy who owns the house comes out and sees her talking to me. Dawn keeps a straight face, and says "I'm gonna be doing a ventriloquist act at the school talent show next week. What do you think?" 

I say "Peter Piper picked a peck of pickled penguins. A gottle of geer." 

"Needs more work," says the old guy, and wanders off again. 

Eventually Buffy and Xander come out again with long faces; they've found nothing. 

"What we really need," says Willow, "is the place the nerds moved to next." 

Back to the shop, and Anya opens up and serves a couple of customers while we move back to the table, except for Xander who goes off to place an order for the computer benches the school needs. 

"Okay," says the Slayer, "so we're looking for the place the nerd herd hid after they'd finished with buzzsaw central. Any ideas?" 

"I found their first place by looking for the owners of that black van," says Willow, "doubt they'd make that mistake twice." 

"And I found the second by looking at every apartment that was advertised for rent around the time they moved out," says the Slayer. "Took me three days." 

"How about utilities?" asks Dawn, "they must have been tied in to power, phones and the fibre network. Could you trace them that way?" 

"I think they were stealing them," said Willow, "they certainly weren't paying for the porn channels they had when they made the invisibility machine." 

"And you know this because..?" asks the Slayer. 

"Someone left the TV turned on when they had me prisoner and tied to a chair. Saw rather more than I wanted to, soon lost its charm. If it was pay per view they would have been more careful." 

"Okay, anyone else got any bright ideas?" 

"Ask them?" I say. 

"That'd be kinda difficult," says the Slayer, "I had to bust them out of jail to save their lives, and they ran off to Mexico the first chance they got." 

"How long were they in jail?" I ask. 

"A day or so." 

"Either of them confess, or make any sort of statement?" 

"No idea. I think Jonathan might have done. Willow, do you still have a way to get into the police computers?" 

"If they haven't spotted my back door since the last time. I'll check once the shop is empty." 

Soon Willow goes off and does things to the computer again, and eventually says "Here we are. They were never questioned properly, but Jonathan gave his name and address, and it isn't one I've seen before. Wharf Road, near the docks." 

"The police have probably searched it already," says Buffy, "but they would have been looking for stolen goods, something like that trophy would probably go unnoticed." 

"I can check. Hmm, they impounded a lot of stuff, but most of it turned out to be stolen or bought on fake credit cards. Wow, who needs four widescreen plasma TVs? Okay, what's left...? Okay, item 137, metal and plastic cheerleading trophy. What'd they do with it...? Let's see... oh! They thought it was stolen and tracked down the last person named on it, Catherine Madison, and gave it to her husband, Amy's dad. He's got it." 

_To Be Continued_


	7. Controlling and Manipulative

This is a BtVS story, for once not a crossover, a sequel to The Talent Show. It's set some time in early season seven, before the Potentials start to arrive in Sunnydale. There are spoilers for earlier seasons. Work in progress. 

All characters are the intellectual property of their respective creators, film companies, etc.; this story may not be sold or distributed on a profit-making basis. 

I'm British, so's my spelling. Live with it. 

* * *

**Encore**

_By Marcus L. Rowland_

VII 

So I go over to the Madison house with Dawn and the Slayer. For some reason Willow doesn't want to come, she and this Amy disagreed about something the last time they met, Anyanka has customers and can't leave the store, and Xander's sulking. Think he got the idea the girls were laughing at him, can't imagine why. 

On the way over Dawn tells me about Amy Madison. Seems she's another witch, got Willow into a lot of trouble a few months ago. Willow doesn't want to have anything to do with her in case she gets tempted to turn her into a rat again. 

"Again?" 

"Again. Amy was a rat for nearly four years, she cast a spell and Willow couldn't undo it. Wasn't very grateful when Willow finally fixed it. She got Willow into stuff..." Dawn trailed off, and I guessed things had been bad. What was that about killing someone? 

"So what's the plan?" I ask the Slayer. 

"The plan is we ring the doorbell, see Mister Madison, and get the statuette if he still has it. If he hasn't my guess is that Amy has it, and is planning to use it. That or her mom's soul is controlling her again, she gave us a lot of grief a few weeks before we first met you." 

* * * * *

"Good morning," says the Slayer, "Mister Madison, I don't know if you remember me?" 

"Amy's friend? One of the ones that..." 

"Dealt with your wife. Yes. This is my sister Dawn." 

She doesn't introduce me, and I stay quiet until we know the score. 

"It's been a long while, but I wouldn't forget you. You saved Amy, saved both of us." 

"Is Amy around?" 

"She's living in college. Why, is something wrong?" 

"We're not sure. We're trying to trace something from the old Sunnydale High; the cheerleading trophy that was awarded to your wife." 

"That thing? Hasn't cheerleading caused enough problems already?" 

"We think that some of her magic may be trapped inside it." 

"Oh..." 

"The police record says it was recovered with some stolen property and returned to you a couple of months ago." 

"Yes.. just trying to think what I did with the damn thing. Should have known it'd be trouble." 

"Does Amy have it?" 

"No, I don't think so; she was off with her friends when the police called, and I didn't think it was a good idea to mention it to her. It's somewhere in the basement, I think, I put a load of junk down there after Amy went back to college, things she didn't want any more, I have an idea that I put it in one of the boxes. Sooner or later I ought to take it all to the Goodwill shop." 

"Would you mind if we took a look?" 

"Sure. And if there's anything else you'd like just ask me." 

* * * * *

"Kinda creepy down here," I say. 

"Shut up, Sid," says Dawn, sifting through one of the boxes. 

"Could be anything. Spiders, maybe even rats." 

"Amy's in college," says the Slayer, then "Hey! Sweet Valley High books. Dawn, you want?" 

"Kinda old for that now," says Dawn. "Any Anne Rice? Or a first edition Harry Potter would be nice, we could sell it on eBay and solve most of our money problems." 

"You're spending way too much time with Anya," says the Slayer. "If we find anything like that we tell mister Madison, it's his stuff. After that marriage and that kid he deserves a bit of luck." 

"I guess. What was she really like?" 

"Catherine? You never met her, did you? Controlling and manipulative, and she pretty much took over Amy's life..." 

"Who could that remind me of?" mutters Dawn, and the Slayer pretends not to have heard. 

Eventually they find the trophy, behind a stack of boxes. It's standing on its own in a chalk circle with some odd symbols around it, and seems to be glowing slightly. 

"I don't like the look of this," says Buffy, and reaches for her cell-phone. Dawn looks at it, and seems to zone out, like her mind is somewhere else, and starts to walk towards the circle. "Hey, Slayer," I shout, slapping Dawn's face, "give me a hand here." 

She helps me haul Dawn away, and she seems to recover once she's out of sight of the trophy. "Looks like Amy's Evil Mom is home," says the Slayer. 

I see something move behind them and shout "So's evil dad! Duck!" Good thing that Slayers have good reflexes - she pushes Dawn down, and the shovel he's swinging goes past above their heads. 

It's a long time since I've seen a Slayer fight, and as always it's a thing of beauty. For about five seconds. She ducks under the next swing, grabs his arm and twists so that the shovel ends up stuck into a wooden beam, then slugs him so hard his false teeth fall out. He's out cold, and she catches him before he hits his head on the wall or the floor. 

"Now that's gross," says the Slayer, looking at the teeth. "Should have realised that there was something off there, he recognised me before I said who I was, and I never really met the guy. That was his body, but Catherine was in the driver's seat." 

"What do we do now?" asks Dawn. 

"Get the hell out of here, take him with us, and call for backup. Willow ought to be able to deal with this without getting possessed, I'd much rather leave it to someone who knows what she's doing." 

"Are you sure Willow can handle this?" asks Dawn. 

"I'm pretty sure she'll know if she can't. Worse comes to worse, we get Xander to bury it deep, plenty of concrete being poured around Sunnydale. Sid, well done on spotting what Catherine was up to, and for warning us just now. I'll take back all the pencil sharpener jokes." 

"No problem, toots, cos' what I've got for you is bigger than a pencil." 

"Dawn, what did we do with the circular saw?" 

"Okay," I say, "point taken. Jeez, what happened to your sense of humour lately?" 

"Seven years of slaying." 

* * * * *

Xander drives Willow over about tweny minutes later, meanwhile we've been sitting in the car with Amy's dad, who seems to be more or less back to normal apart from the bruises. He's mumbling a little because he doesn't currently have any teeth, Buffy left them in the basement when we bailed, and it's just as well because that guy can swear really imaginatively when he puts his mind to it. Hopefully Dawn isn't taking it all in, but I wouldn't place bets. I think that I'm freaking him out more than the possession did, but once he's convinced that it isn't the witch controlling me he calms down. 

Willow and Buffy go in, wearing a couple of protective amulets apiece, and come out a few minutes later with the trophy wrapped in a cloth with little silver star and planet symbols on it. 

"What's that," I ask, "some sort of astrological mojo?" 

"Don't be silly," says Willow, "it's a Harry Potter junior wizard cloak from the stock Anya keeps for the kiddies. Think I'm going to take something valuable down into all that dust? The charm's in this thing's eyes, if you can't see them it can't possess you." 

"What do we do with it now?" asks Buffy. 

"I think Xander can help with that. You've got welding equipment at your site, haven't you?" 

"Sure," says Xander. "Gonna melt it? What'll happen to her soul?" 

"We have to contain the soul while you melt the statue, confine it and drain her mojo. There's no way I can bring her back, but maybe we can send her on to wherever her soul ought to be going." 

"Sounds good to me. I'll drop you guys at the shop, come back with the gear. Do you have something to melt it on, a fireproof mat or whatever?" 

"Damn, didn't think of that." 

"No problemo, I'll bring a concrete paving slab, that ought to do." 

* * * * *

An hour or so later Willow has the statue ready in the back room of the shop; she's covered the head with a little steel cup, and it's standing on the concrete slab. Around it is a pentagram made out of glass tubes, each about eighteen inches long, with a lot of complicated wiring connecting them, linked to a big battery and a wooden box full of electrical machinery, which is well away from the rest of the equipment. It's an antique, about a hundred years old, but when Willow presses some switches the box hums and vibrates then the tubes start to glow blue. She backs off quickly, and as instructed we all stay well clear. 

"Wow!" says Dawn, "Retro much? Where'd you get the weird science show?" 

Willow smiles. "Carnacki mark five electric pentacle, made in Britain around nineteen-ten. He was a psychic detective, didn't have much magical power of his own so he built gadgets that boosted them. This baby, or one like it, kept out some major demons. Ought to keep Catherine in pretty well." 

"Don't break it," says Anya nervously, "that's a collector's item and they don't make the tubes any more." 

"Oh yeah," says Willow, "that reminds me. Wear these gloves and this apron while you're working, Xander, and keep your welding goggles on at all times." 

Willow gives him a heavy apron, and the biggest and thickest gloves I've ever seen outside a catcher's mitt. 

"What's this for, Will, keep the magic from hurting me?" 

"Not really. Those are really old tubes, Xander, and I'm pretty sure that they're giving off low-level X-rays as well as hard ultraviolet. Carnacki died of cancer. There's lead in the apron and the gloves, ought to keep you safe." 

Everyone backs away some more, and Xander tapes the welding torch to a length of pipe, so that he doesn't have to get too close. Then he lights up and sets to work. 

"Start at the head and work your way down," says Willow, "it's hollow, ought to melt pretty quickly." 

"No problemo." 

I'll say this for him, he handles a welding torch well, and when all's said and done what goes wrong isn't actually his fault. About three minutes after he starts the head starts to sag back; before he can change the position of the torch the neck comes apart and the head falls off, still in its little cup, and bounces off to one side. The cup stops, but the head rolls clear and bounces into one of the tubes, breaking it. There's a bang, and the pentacle stops glowing. 

A glowing ball of light about the size of an egg floats up from the head, and we can hear it laughing as it flies off through one of the windows, with a little voice shouting "I will have my revenge! Revenge!" 

"Oh boy," says Xander. "Thing about evil witches, they always have to have the last word." 

"Let's hope it _is_ the last," says the Slayer. "I've got a nasty feeling _she_ doesn't think so." 

"I think you can be sure it isn't," I say, "because I'm still here, and if the mission was over I think I'd be heading back upstairs." 

_To Be Continued_


	8. Another glamorous incident

This is a BtVS story, for once not a crossover, a sequel to The Talent Show. It's set some time in early season seven, before the Potentials start to arrive in Sunnydale. There are spoilers for earlier seasons. Work in progress. 

All characters are the intellectual property of their respective creators, film companies, etc.; this story may not be sold or distributed on a profit-making basis. 

I'm British, so's my spelling. Live with it. 

* * *

**Encore**

_By Marcus L. Rowland_

VIII 

So Catherine Madison's soul flies off shouting that it'll have its revenge. After everyone gets over their surprise Buffy says "Can you track her down?" 

"Maybe," says Willow, "but I think it'll be difficult. One soul in an entire town..." 

"What about her magic? I thought she was really powerful." 

"Was. Don't think she still is, it felt like getting trapped in the statue took most of it, and the pentacle did a pretty good job of draining what was left before she escaped." 

"Talking of which," says Anya, "who's going to pay for the repairs?" 

"Repairs?" asks Willow. 

"Replacement tube for the pentacle, we'll have to get that blown by a craftsman if we can find one. If not, I'll have to sell it as non-working and it loses most of its value. And there's the broken window, of course." 

Willow sighs and says "Get an estimate for the tube, if it's not extortionate I'll pay. There are a couple of companies that make specialised laboratory apparatus for the university, you could try them." 

"And I'll fix the window," says Xander. 

"Anyone else think we're losing focus here?" asks Buffy. "What about our escaped witch?" 

"She might be able to possess an animal of some sort," says Willow, "a cat or a dog perhaps, but she's lost so much power she won't be capable of anything too serious. No more controlling people. Not any time soon, anyway." 

"Okay, everyone be careful of animals. Willow, it'd help if you can find some way to trace her. Xander, it sounds like we might have to make our homes animal-proof. Could you check the screens and ventilators?" 

"Sure, but it'll have to be tomorrow, I've still got some work to do this afternoon." 

"Yeah. I'm sorry, guys, I really thought this would be the end of it, but I've got a feeling there's worse to come." 

"Don't worry, toots," I say. "We can handle it." 

"Says the dummy that got us into this mess. Don't suppose you know where she's hiding?" 

"Nope." 

"Is she going to possess something larger or smaller than a breadbox?" 

I thought, then had to say "Sorry, not getting anything here." 

"Damn. Okay, I've got to get some shopping, and Dawn, you wanted to go to the mall. Willow, you want to come with?" 

"Give me a few minutes to clear up and I'm with you. I can think about a spell while I'm shopping." 

"What about this slab and the trophy?" asked Anya. 

"It's inert now," said Willow. "Give it a while to cool down, maybe you could sell it on eBay again." 

"Formerly possessed cheerleading trophy... hmm, might be worth a few bucks. That's an excellent idea." 

"Knock my percentage off what the tube costs." 

"Well, I don't see..." Anya realises that Willow is starting to get annoyed, and says "okay." 

"I'll pick up the slab and the tools later," said Xander, "when I come back to fix the window." 

"What about Sid?" asks Dawn. "Sorry, Sid, but if I take you to the mall and any of my friends see you I'll have a lot of explaining to do, and they already think I'm weird." 

"Oh," says Anya, "he could stay here and we could chat. Or find something else to do..." 

"Just a second," says Xander hastily. "I just had a thought... uh... I'm gonna be driving around town most of the afternoon, maybe Sid'll sense something if he comes with me. Say we happen to pass a dog that's possessed or something." 

"Why me in particular?" I ask. 

"You're the guy plugged into the Powers that Be. Okay, so maybe they aren't being very communicative right now but maybe they just want you to give them something to work with." 

"Or maybe you're being irrationally jealous again," chips in Anya. 

"It's not irr... err, it's not jealousy. Just worried that we might lose time if we don't keep looking." 

Behind him Buffy and Willow are trying to keep straight faces, Dawn isn't even trying. 

"Okay," says Anya. "Go look with Sid. If I hear that any harm has come to him I'll know who to blame." 

* * * * *

So they go off to the mall; I later hear the Slayer has to take out a couple of vamps that try to mug them in the underground car park about two minutes after they get there, but apart from that they have a nice afternoon shopping. 

Xander and I hit the road and he takes me on a whirlwind tour of every depressing dust-blown construction site in Sunnydale. For a town that has such a high death rate there's quite a lot of new construction, and his company does most of it. Along the way he points out the sights; places where the Slayer and her friends killed vampires, demons, and other monsters, and places where their friends had died. The whole town's a frigging war zone. One time he stops at a derelict yard filled with old scrap metal, the remains of some sort of tower. "Up there is where Buffy was killed, the second time. Built by demons worshipping a mad hell-god. They wanted to sacrifice Dawn to destroy the universe, Buffy took her place to save it." 

"Save the universe?" 

"Yeah. All universes in fact, she was gonna bring it all down like a house of cards." 

"What happened to the demons and the god?" 

"We did. I got to hit her with a demolition ball." 

"Nice work." 

"Buffy and Willow did most of it, I was just adding to the damage. Anyway, not really much to see here, not since the top of the tower collapsed. Let's move on." 

It's getting dark by the time we get back to the centre of town. We're a couple of blocks from the Magic Box when Xander slows, going past a small antiques shop that has a couple of police cars and an ambulance parked outside. There's a body being loaded into the ambulance. In Sunnydale I suspect that this is an everyday sight. 

Anya is just closing the store when we arrive, and the Slayer and her friends are out back having a meeting. "Find anything?" asks Dawn. 

Xander tells them about the antiques shop, and Willow goes off to hack the police computer and see what the score is. 

"Sounds like a vampire attack, one male victim identified as George Fraser, owner of the shop. Lacerations to the neck and extreme blood loss. Must have come in from the back alley, it wouldn't get much sun in the afternoon. They think he was murdered around two this afternoon, the murderer locked the front door and the body wasn't found for a couple of hours." 

"Why that shop?" asks Buffy, "what would a vampire want with the place?" 

"Lunch, I guess, or maybe there was something it wanted to steal. It's one of the places I used to check occasionally for magical knick-knacks, it's amazing what you can sometimes find." 

"Any stock missing?" asks Anya. "What about money?" 

"Nothing mentioned," says Willow, "but that doesn't prove much. Oh, it says the security camera tape is missing." 

"Any connection with our wandering soul?" asks Xander. 

"It happened at least an hour before we released her, so I doubt it." 

I suddenly get a very bad feeling, and say "There's a connection. Not sure what, but there's a connection." 

"Was that the Powers?" asks Anya. "Crypric and unhelpful as usual, I suppose." 

"Yeah." 

"This sucks," says Xander. "Why the hell can't they just send us a fax?" 

"Free will," says Willow, "if they tell us too much it takes away our flexibility." 

"So a fax is out, but reanimated dummies are okay? No offence, Sid." 

"None taken." 

"That about sums it up," says Willow. "That, or they're lazy and incompetent, which would fit Anya's theory. Either way, this is what we've got." 

"And when you've got lemons make lemonade," says the Slayer. "Okay, something bad is coming and we need to know what. It's vampire-related and involves antiques, maybe magical ones. Willow, we need to know if anything's gone missing from the shop. If nothing comes up on the police computers see if you can get into their catalogue, I'm pretty sure there's a web site. I'm going to check out the alley behind the shop, see how the vampire got in and if there's any sign of the security camera tape." 

"What about us?" asks Xander. 

"Research - when Willow has the catalogue we may not be able to tell what's been stolen, I want you guys to go through the list and see if anything looks suspicious. Anya, see if you can spot anything that has a demonic history or something. You all know the sort of things to look for." 

"Oh, and watch out for magical or mystical artifacts, even if they're still in the shop," Anya says cheerfully, "with any luck there'll be a closing down sale." 

"Be careful, Buffy," says Dawn. 

"Always. Back soon." 

* * * * *

Buffy comes back about an hour later, holding a plastic bag at arm's length, and says "Any luck with the computer search?" 

"Nothing promising. Looks like typical antique shop stuff, didn't see anything that seemed relevant. How about you?" 

"Got something... found a loose sewer manhole cover in the alley, went down and the tape was there." 

"When you say there...?" says Xander, wrinkling his nose. 

"In the sewage. Another glamorous incident in the life of the Slayer. There was a hose behind one of the shops, I got rid of the worse of it there, but I need a shower. The tape will have to be cleaned somehow before we can play it. Any ideas?" 

"There's a cleaning spell," says Willow, "but it might wipe the recording. Best thing would be to get the tape spools out of the casing and rinse them with water, then industrial alcohol. After that I can try to dry them with a hair dryer." 

"We've got some alcohol somewhere in the basement at home," says the Slayer. "Okay, who's for a video evening." 

"Ooh," says Xander, "should I get popcorn?" 

* * * * *

"This ought to be okay," says Willow a couple of hours later. "I think it's dry enough to play, and I don't think I hurt it cleaning it. Good thing you had the same brand of tape here, I'm not sure the reels are interchangeable." 

"So long as it won't damage the VCR," says Buffy, "Whereabouts in the tape are we?" 

"I'm not sure. I had to wind it backwards and forwards while I was cleaning it, didn't think to mark the position first." 

"Let's hope that it ends after the murder, not before," says Xander. "We don't know if it was taken before or after." 

"Probably after," says Willow, "I'm pretty sure that shop had the recorder behind the counter, even if it doesn't show the actual killing it ought to show who was in there up to the moment the tape was stopped." 

She put the tape in the recorder and pressed play. A shop with several customers, there's a clock at the bottom of the screen showing a date a week ago and four in the afternoon. 

"Wrong tape?" asks Anya. 

"The casing was labelled Saturday, I think this is last Saturday," says Willow. "They probably reused the tapes on a weekly basis, this is the part that hasn't been recorded over yet. It's running at half speed to give an eight hour recording." 

"So if you rewind it it'll suddenly jump from showing last week to this week?" asks Dawn. 

"Should do. Let's try it. I'll take it back about three hours." 

"This is so cool," says Xander, "it's like CSI. Don't think we've done this since the hell-hounds in high school." 

"Okay," says Anya, "who else thinks Xander just jinxed us, remembering what came after that?" 

"Hey, we beat the Mayor," says Buffy. 

"And lost sixteen people doing it." 

"Shush," says Willow, "I'm ready to start it playing again." 

The same shop, guy behind the counter, nobody else in the shop, 1.32 PM today. 

"Can you speed it up a little without damaging the tape?" asks Buffy. 

"I'll try five times... seems to be okay. 1.33... 1.34... 1.35" 

At 1.45 the guy behind the counter goes into the back of the shop, out of view of the camera, and is thrown out again. He lands on the floor. A dark-haired woman comes into the shop from the back, slaps him down to the floor again, then goes to a table and picks something up, then to the front door, locks it, and closes the blind. She turns to face the camera, and Xander says "Holy..." 

At five times normal speed she goes back to the guy, vamps out, and drains him, then over to the counter. The tape flickers, then shows last week. 

"Take it back to one forty-four then show it at normal speed," says Buffy, "Just want to be quite sure." 

The same sequence, same vampire. She picks up something from a display of antique toys, locks the door, turns towards the camera. She's beautiful, and deadly as a snake. 

"Drusilla," says the Slayer flatly. "She's back." 

_To Be Continued_


	9. Stab her with the stilts

This is a BtVS story, for once not a crossover, a sequel to The Talent Show. It's set some time in early season seven, before the Potentials start to arrive in Sunnydale. There are spoilers for earlier seasons. Work in progress. 

All characters are the intellectual property of their respective creators, film companies, etc.; this story may not be sold or distributed on a profit-making basis. 

I'm British, so's my spelling. Live with it. 

* * *

**Encore**

_By Marcus L. Rowland_

IX 

"So this Drusilla," I say, "I guess you know her?" 

"Oh yeah," says Xander, and the others nod agreement, "She's an insane vampire, sired by Angelus, sired Spike and used to hang out with him. She's powerful and psychic, and we've never been able to finish her off." 

"Angel told me she also managed to become sire to Darla," says Buffy, "after Darla was bought back to life by evil lawyers. Darla made Angelus, so Drusilla's her own grandmother I guess. Or something. Kind of incestuous anyway." 

"Oh... _that_ Drusilla. Should have remembered. Yeah, I heard of her. Never met her though. Shame, she's hot." 

"She's _hot_?" says Buffy. "Does your wooden excuse for a brain ever function at anything above groin level?" 

"It's not like I have to worry about being bitten, is it?" 

"Maybe that's why you were sent here," says Dawn. "A hero that doesn't have to worry about losing it with Vampirella." 

"Think I'm kinda at a disadvantage in the hero department when it comes to taking on a vampire, don't you? As in I'm only two feet tall, and their hearts are usually rather higher than that." 

"You could use stilts," says Xander, "or maybe a stepladder." 

"So what am I supposed do once I'm up the ladder?" I ask, "this body isn't exactly built to fight vamps, in case you hadn't noticed." 

"I'm gonna pretend you're not having this conversation," says the Slayer, winding the tape back for another look. 

"Stab her with the stilts, of course," says Xander, and we both start laughing. 

"Shh," says Buffy, "I'm trying to concentrate here." She plays the clip again. Same as before, Drusilla slaps the guy to the floor, goes to a table and picks something up, then to the front door, locks it, and closes the blind, then vamps up and finishes him off. "Okay, what do we think she picked up from that table?" 

"Looked like a doll to me," says Xander, and everyone else agrees. 

"I'm into their inventory," says Willow, doing something complicated with her laptop. "There are only four dolls listed, and I don't think it's the original 1959 Barbie or the 1964 GI Joe. That leaves a Victorian doll with China head or a thirties Raggedy Anne doll. What colour is the clothing?" 

"A white dress," says Buffy. 

"Okay, it's the Victorian doll then. Not much of a surprise. I'll try to find out where they got it." 

"You think that's Drusilla's doll?" asks Xander. 

"Miss Edith? Could be," says Buffy, "Wasn't really clear enough to tell, but I don't recall Drusilla carrying her the last time she was in town. Could she have come back just to find her?" 

"Oh boy," says Xander, "if she did, I wonder how many she killed along the way." 

"Here we go," says Willow. "They bought her at a police lost property auction six months ago. Guess they sell off stuff that's cluttering up the station house every so often. Okay, let me get into the police system... lost property... what? You morons!" 

"What is it, Will?" asks Buffy. 

"Remember the train with all the corpses, a couple of years back? The time Drusilla came to town?" 

"Of course I do. Don't tell me..." 

"Yup. Found on the train, none of the victims owned it. The idiots tagged it as lost property, not evidence." 

"I sometimes think we'd be doing this town a favour if we gave the vamps open house on the police department," says Xander. 

"It'd certainly raise the average IQ," says Buffy. "Even for them this is lame." 

"Okay, so let's say she's got Miss Edith..." says Xander, "...oh crap." 

"What?" 

"Willow, could the wicked witch take over Miss Edith? We know there's a connection, could that be it?" 

"I guess," says Willow, "Not like she'd have to fight a soul to get in there. Miss Edith was just a doll, right?" 

"Far as anyone knows," says Buffy. "She talked to it a lot, but I never heard of it answering." 

"And if she did..." Xander begins, and trails off into silence. 

"Drusilla would listen, and I guess might take notice of what she says." 

"Like 'kill the Slayer', maybe?" 

"Or 'kill all the Slayer's friends'," Anya said gloomily. 

"You realise we've just caused this, don't you?" 

"How do you work that one out?" asked Buffy. 

"We found the statue and released her," said Xander, "If we hadn't done that she would have been trapped in there, maybe controlling Amy's dad but how bad could that be?" 

"You didn't know?" asked Willow. 

"Know what?" 

"He's the engineer in charge of the city reservoir water purification plant. He could kill hundreds of people, maybe thousands, if he messed things up badly enough." 

"Okay, so maybe getting her away wasn't such a bad idea..." 

"How can we figure out what she'll do?" asks Dawn. 

"There's nothing for it," says the Slayer. "I'll have to talk to Spike." 

* * * * *

She doesn't want any of us along, says that Spike is kinda flaky these days. Last time I heard of him he'd been a stone killer, apparently these days he'd got a chip in his head that stops him from hurting anyone, a soul, and some sort of nervous breakdown. 

Turns out that Xander really did get some popcorn and rent a couple of movies, so we settle down to something called Goldmember, which Xander swears is a comedy masterpiece. About twenty minutes later I'm saying "Boy, this sucks" when there's a knock at the back door. Dawn goes to take a look, says "eek," and runs back inside shouting "Drusilla!" 

"Oh, for crying out loud!" says Anya. 

"She can't get in," says Dawn, "I didn't invite her." 

Dawn is punching numbers into the phone to call the Slayer, and Xander is digging into a chest for weapons, while Anya and Willow go into the hall to talk to evil vampire lady. I sneak out the front and head round the side of the house, hoping she won't notice me. 

"What have you done?" asks Drusilla. I guess she's talking to Willow, although I can't see her from where I'm standing. Drusilla's standing on the porch, looking furious, wearing a silky grey dress that really shows off her figure. Wow! For some reason she's still showing her human face, and she's absolutely gorgeous. In a psychotic murderous way, of course. 

"Me?" asks Willow from the safety of the hall. 

"You, witch. What have you done to Miss Edith?" 

"I don't understand." 

"She was always a good girl, now she argues and whines and tries to tell me what to do! There's the smell of witches all over her." 

"Oh... I think I know what's happened, but it wasn't me that did it. Not directly anyway." 

This goes on for a while, with Drusilla getting more and more annoyed. She's just not buying the idea that Willow didn't do it just to annoy her. 

It's about this time I make my mistake. I've been hiding behind the log box, and I decide to look round the side of it for a better view. And slip, landing on my side. 

Drusilla hears it, of course, and her head snaps round. I lie very still, pretending I'm just a piece of wood. Drusilla stalks over toward me, looking into the shadows, and eventually spots me... and picks me up. 

Oh boy. She's holding me in her arms a few inches from her perfect undead bosom, and I'm trying really hard to stay dummied up. She looks at me, and she says "Whose dolly are you then? The Slayer? The witch? The little girl?" 

Willow is watching from the hall, and I hope she has the sense to keep quiet about me. 

"I've got your dolly," says Drusilla, "he's going to join me for tea. If you're very good and cure Miss Edith I might let you have him back. If you don't, he's firewood." 

She tucks me under her arm, and runs off into the night. 

_To Be Continued_


	10. Really really bored

This is a BtVS story, for once not a crossover, a sequel to The Talent Show. It's set some time in early season seven, before the Potentials start to arrive in Sunnydale. There are spoilers for earlier seasons. Work in progress. 

All characters are the intellectual property of their respective creators, film companies, etc.; this story may not be sold or distributed on a profit-making basis. 

I'm British, so's my spelling. Live with it. 

* * *

**Encore**

_By Marcus L. Rowland_

X 

When I say Drusilla runs off, I'm not describing it well. It's more like she glides along the pavement. She doesn't seem to hurry, and her feet hardly seem to be moving under her long grey dress, but she's travelling as fast as a sprinter. Weird. 

I can see this particularly well because she has me under her arm facing downwards, and I'm getting a great view of the ground and but not a lot else. I don't dare twist my head round to see anything more. Pretty soon I have no idea where we are, especially once we leave the road and head across country. I think it's a park at first, then notice gravestones to either side. A cometary, where else? 

Eventually she opens a crypt and pushes a stone coffin to one side to reveal a spiral staircase going down into the bowels of the earth. It's pitch black down there, of course, but that's nothing to a vampire. She goes downstairs singing a little tune, something about lambs, and of course she takes me with her. Once she's below the top of the stairs she reaches up and pulls the coffin back to cover the stairs. Unless there's another way out I'm trapped with her, there's no way I'm moving it on my own. 

"Here we are," says Miss Loony-Tune, and strikes a match to light some candles. The room they show isn't exactly cosy; your basic underground crypt, except that there's a big four-poster bed - getting that down into the Batcave must have been a good trick - a dressing table, and a table with a few chairs, most of them occupied by dolls. She looks over at one of them, which I guess is Miss Edith, and says "Yes, I'm back, and I'm still very angry," then seems to listen for a while. I strain to listen, and gradually I can hear a little voice, very faint. Can't make out a word it's saying though. 

She holds me up and looks at me, and I try to look lifeless, then says "So you belong to the girl, do you? The green glowy girl." No idea what that's about, but I can't see it doing me any harm. She goes on "Miss Edith doesn't like you. She says you're a bad dolly. What have you got to say for yourself?" 

I stay dumb, and she puts me onto another chair and goes on this way for a while, and I have a sinking feeling that this is all I'm going to hear until the Slayer rescues me or I somehow escape. And it goes on and on, Miss Edith talking something that sounds like gibberish to me, Drusilla replying to Miss Edith, and occasionally talking to me. The fourth or fifth time she gives me the line about Miss Edith saying I'm a bad dolly I've had enough. I snap and do something really stupid. I twist my head round to look at her and say "Would you tell Miss Edith to knock off calling me a bad dolly, I'm a goddamned dummy and all this yacking is giving me a headache." 

From the way Drusilla reacts anyone would think she hadn't been bending my ear for the last two hours, or however long it's been. She kinda leaps back. I wink at her and say "Only kidding, toots. I'm made of wood, I don't get headaches, just really really bored." 

"You're a talking dolly!" 

I stand up on the chair and say "Will'ya just listen to what I'm telling you? I... am... not... a... dolly. I'm a goddamned dummy. There's a difference, toots." 

"Difference?" 

"Aint'cha ever seen any horror movies? Magic, or Child's Play, or Bride of Chucky?" 

"I watch the stars, dolly, they sing my name." 

"But not the movies? Your loss, toots. The point I'm making is that dummies have personality, dolls are mostly just dolls." 

"But Miss Edith talks to me." 

"Sure she does, but that's not really her talking. Miss Edith's been possessed by the soul of a witch who spent the last seven years trapped in a goddamned cheerleading trophy. She's a total looney-tune, baby, you don't wanna pay any attention." 

"Miss Edith is telling me to kill the witch. Kill the witch, the Slayer, and the little girl too." 

"Yeah, and that's worked for you so well every other time you're tried it. Let's face it, toots, trying to kill the Slayer is a mug's game. How many times are you gonna try before you wise up? Even if you managed it somehow, it wouldn't get the old Miss Edith back. The only way to do that is to get rid of the mad witch that's possessing her, and for that you'll need the help of the Slayer and her friends." 

"Ask the Slayer for help?" 

"Sure you can. Hadn't you realised? They're all of them suckers for a sob story. Give them that and an evil to vanquish and you've got it made, just let me help and you'll have Miss Edith back cured without getting staked. But mess with the Slayer and she'll hand you your head." 

She suddenly grabs me and hugs me, and my nose is buried in a very interesting place. She's dancing around the room singing "Clever dolly has a plan, clever dolly has a plan..." 

"Dummy, toots, not dolly. And my name's Sid if you want to get friendly..." 

The rest of the night is very interesting. 

* * * * *

Just before dawn Drusilla opens up the tomb and lets me out, and I start trying to work out the way back to Rovello Drive. It's a long walk for someone my size, fortunately I don't get tired and I don't get lost too badly, and the one dog that takes an interest in me runs off whining when I punch it in the nose. About eight or so I find the house and knock on the door. Willow answers, and lets me in once she's sure I'm alone. 

"Thank the goddess you're safe. Did Drusilla hurt you? Buffy's been searching all over for you, she must have tried every cometary in town but there wasn't any sign and none of the local vampires seem to know where she's hiding nor does anyone at Willy's bar and I'm babbling again aren't I?" 

"Kinda, kid. Slayer around?" 

"She's in bed, better give it another hour or so, she was up really late searching for you." 

"Sure, it's nothing that can't wait. Meanwhile you might want to start looking up a way to get that looney-tune witch out of the doll without damaging it, Drusilla wants to cut a deal." 

"A deal?" 

"Wait until the Slayer gets up, it's a long story." 

* * * * *

At about ten Buffy has finished breakfast and I start to explain things. "The thing of it is, Drusilla doesn't want anything to do with Sunnydale. She wouldn't be here at all if it wasn't for the doll." 

"What about trying to kill me?" asks Buffy. 

"Well, yeah, she's tried that a few times, but I kinda convinced her that she'd be wasting her time to try again." 

"Wasting her time?" 

"Think about it. You're here, the only reason she needs to kill you is if she wants to stay here. She goes anywhere else, the best thing for her is a Slayer that stays in Sunnydale. And she _really_ doesn't want to stay here, that's why she came back to get the doll. She thinks something bad is gonna happen with the Hellmouth, and she doesn't want to be around when it does. If I were you I'd be worried about that, didn't someone say that she's some sort of seer?" 

"I thought that Drusilla liked disasters," says Willow. 

"Sure she does, but likes the kind where there are survivors to feed on, she's kinda over trying to destroy the world. She says that was always Angelus's shtick, she was just in it for the laughs. Only she didn't quite put it that way." 

"Sounds like you had quite a conversation," says Buffy. "Did you give any thought to finding out what her plans are, or how we can get close enough to her to stake her?" 

"Her plan is to pick up the doll and get out of here, after that she just wants to leave. Keeps going on about something devouring from beneath, says she doesn't like the sound of it." 

"We've heard that one before," said Buffy, "most of Sunnydale seems to be running scared right now. The vamps and demons anyway. How about staking her." 

"There's a problem with that." 

"What sort of problem?" 

"Well, you remember that I was having some trouble explaining why I'm here?" 

"Sure." 

"The Powers finally got round to telling me last night, about four in the morning when I found a piece of wood under her bed." 

"And?" 

"And they want her alive. Or undead, anyway. My mission here, it's to get rid of Catherine and get Drusilla out of Sunnydale in one piece." 

_To Be Continued_


	11. Next Time I Get A Lawyer

This is a BtVS story, for once not a crossover, a sequel to The Talent Show. It's set some time in early season seven, before the Potentials start to arrive in Sunnydale. There are spoilers for earlier seasons. Now Complete. 

All characters are the intellectual property of their respective creators, film companies, etc.; this story may not be sold or distributed on a profit-making basis. 

I'm British, so's my spelling. Live with it. 

* * *

**Encore**

_By Marcus L. Rowland_

XI 

"The Powers That Be want _Drusilla_ to walk away unhurt?" asks Willow. I can tell that she's thinking something very rude. 

"I want to stake her," says Buffy, "I need a better reason not to than 'the Powers say so'. She's killed hundreds, remember, including at least one Slayer." 

"Kendra," says Willow. "I saw it happen. We've all had friends killed by her. We all just saw her kill that guy in the shop, how many others just this week? How many have to die before she gets what's coming to her?" 

"What can I say?" I say, "the Powers must have big plans for her. Think about it... she's a mind reader and a seer, admittedly she's also a vampire and a total nut-job but the Powers have a way of working around little problems like that." 

"And you had a chance to stake her and didn't?" asks Buffy. 

"There were some sharp pieces of wood on the floor of her crypt, I guess her bed was assembled there. I was gonna try to stake her myself, but as soon as I tried to pick up the wood I could feel the Powers saying 'no', and my arms started to lock up." 

"The Powers have you running on some sort of remote control?" asks Dawn. 

"That's what it feels like." 

"That sucks." 

"I'm just not buying it," says Xander, "the Powers already have Angel on their payroll, and Deadboy Junior's got the chip and his own widdle soul now, he'll probably be fighting for them too, what the hell do they want with another vampire?" 

"I only get glimpses," I say, "but my feeling is she's some sort of backup. There are bad things coming, really bad. If you fail, or Angel or Spike, they can slot her into their plans. Meanwhile they want to keep her well away from both of them, and well away from Sunnydale and Los Angeles." 

"But what about the people she kills?" says Buffy. 

"That's where I'm gonna come in. The Powers want me to go with her, keep her from hurting too many people." 

"How? You gonna bite her ankles when she's about to kill someone?" 

"More like be her conscience. Like Jimminy Cricket." 

"You have got to be kidding," says Xander. 

"I wish. You've gotta understand how Drusilla thinks, I got a crash course last night. She has this whole family of dolls, in her head they all have personalities and talk to her. She _cares_ what they think about her, that's why she's so upset about Catherine possessing Miss Edith. The way Drusilla thinks, Miss Edith was always the shy baby, the kid that doesn't answer back. Suddenly she was trying to tell her what to do, that's where Catherine went wrong." 

"So how the hell are you gonna control her?" 

"Guide, not control. By starting out the way I am and staying that way. Thing is, she's got no problems with having a naughty kid in the family, provided she knows where she is with him. So I'll start out as the argumentative type and play on that, tell her she's being an idiot, steer her towards animal blood and away from humans, lie and cheat if I have to, whatever it takes." 

"I give you a week," says Buffy, "then the novelty wears off and she gets out the kerosene." 

"If it happens it happens. I'll have done my best, and in case you haven't noticed this body isn't exactly a barrel of laughs for me. I don't feel pain, and it won't upset me to go back, although it'd be nice to go back a winner. From your perspective, the important thing is that whatever happens, we won't be in Sunnydale or anywhere nearby." 

"And if you can't control her? What if she just goes on her merry way, killing people whenever she feels bored or hungry or wants a laugh? What then?" 

"My guess, the Powers That Be will eventually do something about her. If not, sooner or later a Slayer will catch up with her, if not you then someone else." 

"You're serious, aren't you?" says Xander. 

"Yup." 

"And if we kill her you lose out on your chance to save her." 

"That's true, I guess." 

"What does that do to you?" asks Dawn. 

"Damned if I know. Maybe I go straight back and they give me another assignment, maybe I stay stuck in this body until it falls apart or they find something else for me to do, like helping you. It wouldn't be my first choice." 

"We have to do it," says Willow. 

"Save the vamp?" asks Xander. "Not kill her, anyway?" 

"She didn't ask to be made a vampire, maybe this is Drusilla's only shot at redemption." 

"Like she cares." 

"That's just it... she isn't equipped to care, maybe we have to do it for her." 

"Okay," says Buffy, "let's say we want to do this. How do we go about it?" 

"She'll have to let me touch the doll," says Willow, "If we can get it into the electric pentacle again I can exorcise it properly, shouldn't be any problem, Catherine doesn't have much power left." 

"Could you do it outdoors?" I ask. 

"Outdoors?" 

"Drusilla isn't exactly the trusting type, I told her you'd probably want to do that, she suggested a place and time." 

"Go on," says the Slayer. 

"The football field at the school, at midnight." 

"Why there?" 

"Plenty of routes in and out, and nobody can creep up on her easily." 

"What about her creeping up on us?" 

"If you work together that shouldn't be a problem. The way she wants to play this, I act as the go-between and carry the doll to you and back to her. She doesn't want to see more than two on your team, not counting me, or the deal's off." 

"How many on her team?" 

"Just her, she says." 

"And whatever army of minions she has with her." 

"I didn't see any army. Didn't see any sign of any other vampires with her." 

"Don't you think that's kinda suspicious?" asks Xander. 

"Paranoid much?" asks Dawn, "we know she's a loner, even other vampires are scared of her." 

"Okay," says the Slayer, "if we're gonna do this, let's do it right. Let's think what we can do to even the odds, and what she might be up to if she isn't on the level." 

* * * * *

So it's midnight, and I'm in the middle of the football field with the Slayer and Willow. Anya and Xander are at home with Dawn, armed to the teeth in case this is some sort of diversion. Willow has some protection set up, a spell that'll warn us if a vamp comes anywhere near, and give us an idea of distance and direction. It's a bright moonlit night, which helps I guess. 

"Something now," says Willow, looking at a map that has a few glowing spots on it. "Coming from across the park towards the school. Single vamp... I'm pretty sure it's Drusilla." 

"Any of those others closing in?" 

"Nope, looks like the usual activity at the cemeteries around Sunnydale." 

"How come we don't have one of these set up all the time?" asks the Slayer. 

"Because the spell only lasts a little while and it's kinda dark magic. Last time I used this it was to find Warren. I can't do it often enough to be useful, not without going all black and veiny." 

"Okay, forget that one then. Stay put until she shows herself, any sign of trickery and get your shields up, leave the rest to me." 

"There she is now," says Willow. Drusilla's standing at the edge of the field, under one of the goals. 

"Okay," I say, "you ready with the pentacle?" 

"Yes." 

"I'll get the doll, she won't want to come too close." 

"Let's hope you're right." 

I walk across the field, and it's a long walk for a guy my size. "Hi, toots, got Miss Edith ready for the witch?" 

"She was naughty and wanted to argue, so I had to be firm with her." She's got the doll in her arms, and she's tied its arms behind its back and covered its mouth with sticking plaster - she's been considerate and left the nostrils uncovered, which I think is a nice touch considering a china doll doesn't actually breathe. 

"Okay, they're playing this straight, but they're ready for trickery. You want to go ahead?" 

"Can they cure Miss Edith?" 

"Willow says she can. Says she's gonna exorcise her." 

"Ooh, I like exorcisms, especially if I get to eat the priest. Can I watch?" 

"You don't want to get too close. From what the witch said, she's going to use something that might burn you like sunlight." 

"The witch wants to hurt me? The cunning little vixen, she shall have no tea and cakes." 

"She doesn't want to hurt you, but she's using a machine to drive out the spirit, it makes light like sunlight. They don't know if it'll hurt you, but she told me to warn you not to get too close." 

"Will it hurt Miss Edith?" 

"Nope. She's got that pale skin, but I don't think it'll do more than maybe give her a bit of a sun-tan." 

"All right then. Be careful holding her, she's only little." 

Drusilla kneels and gives me the doll, like it was a baby, and I take it in my arms. It's awkward but I can manage it. I can just hear a faint muffled voice from it. "Don't worry, toots, I'll look after her like she's my own kid." 

I carry the doll back to Willow, and believe me that isn't easy without dropping her, and she has me lay her into the pentacle and take the plaster off its face. 

Willow puts on her apron and gloves and starts the thing up, and we get the bright blue pentagram again; it's taken a lot of organisation to get the broken tube replaced on a Sunday, and Anya has promised to rip someone's spleen out if it gets broken again. Then Willow's chanting in Latin, the full Exorcist routine, while waving incense around the pentagram and throwing in powdered herbs. Meanwhile the Slayer is watching Drusilla, and I know she's itching to take her on, but she's given me her word that she won't and manages to hold back. 

Miss Edith seems to writhe, then she floats up into the air surrounded by the same glow we saw when Xander burned the trophy. I'm half expecting her to start projectile vomiting, then realise how silly that is. The glow sort of separates from the doll, which drops back to the turf without being harmed, and the ball gradually gets smaller and smaller. It's about half its original size when Willow says "Something's coming." There's a glowing blob on the map, coming from the direction of the school. 

Buffy presses the button on a remote control she's carrying. The stadium lights come on, and Drusilla covers her eyes and seems to be startled. 

"I don't know who's coming," shouts the Slayer, raising an axe, "but if any of your vamp friends come too close Miss Edith is gonna get it." 

"Not mine, poppet," Drusilla says sadly. "Not any more..." 

A dark figure walks onto the field, a guy with blonde hair and a leather coat. "Spike," says Willow, and Drusilla echoes her. 

"Hello pet," says Spike. "What brings you to this neck of the woods?" 

"Not your pet," says Drusilla, "not any more, nor are you mine. You're like Angel now, my golden boy, ruined." 

"Maybe, but it's the ruin I've chosen." 

"Yes..." She seems to look inwards for a second, then says "but golden you are, and golden you'll be. Effulgent." 

"That's a word I haven't heard in a while." 

"It's your destiny, my love, yours and hers. She'll be the death of you." 

"Better than the alternative. I'm not going to be the death of her, not for you or anyone else. I'm not going to let you hurt anyone here." The last of the glowing ball is vanishing now, and there's just the doll inside the pentacle, lifeless and silent. Willow keeps the ritual going, in case she's playing dead. 

"You've got it bad, golden boy. But I'm not staying, there's nothing here for me now. Just ashes. From beneath you it devours..." 

"I know. Want to give me a kiss? For luck?" 

"Luck? What's that? Angels sing thee to thy rest, my golden boy. Won't be long now." 

"Okay," says Willow, "it's done. She's banished, sent to hell, Miss Edith's free now." 

"Bring her to me," says Drusilla, and I pick her up and walk back towards the vampires. 

"One day you'll be a real boy," says Spike. 

"Been there already," I say, "now I'm gonna be the lady's toy-boy." 

"Is that right?" says Spike, and for a second I think he's going to rip me apart. "Maybe I should ask you your intentions, seeing as I'm the next of bloody kin." 

"We're getting out of town, and I'm gonna to try to keep the lady out of trouble." 

"Sounds like a plan. Best of luck to you both." 

I give Miss Edith to Drusilla, and she listens for a few moments then kisses her, unties her hands and says "Yes, it's good that the nasty witch has gone. Now I'm going to take you and your new brother away from the nasty Slayer and the other witch." 

"Just a second," I say, "Gotta say goodbye to her and the witch." 

"Don't be too long," says Drusilla, "We've far to go before we sleep." 

I trudge back most of the way to the pentacle, and say "That's it, folks. I'll be leaving with Drusilla, don't try to stop her. It won't do any of us any good." 

"Are you sure about this?" asks Willow. 

"Don't worry, she'll be putty in my hands." 

"I hope you're right." 

"Don't worry, toots. Say goodbye to the rest of the gang for me, okay?" 

"'Kay," says the Slayer, and suddenly picks me up, kisses me, and puts me down again. 

"Wow. Now I'm really sorry to be going, but I gotta do it. So long, folks, it's been real." 

I trudge back to Drusilla, who's talking to Spike and eventually gives him a little peck on the cheek. He glares at me again and says "You be good to her, or I'll track you down and turn you into kindling." 

"Don't worry, I will." Drusilla picks me up, and gives me a quick hug, and we walk off into the night. 

* * * * *

Dru keeps her end of the bargain, and we never do go back to Sunnydale. I won't tell you how it comes out; what happens to the Slayer and her friends, and to Drusilla and me. Maybe you know a lot of it already, and I'll guess that sooner or later you'll learn more. If you're one of the Powers That Be you're probably helping to make it happen. Let's just say that it's a long complicated road we walk before I end up back in heaven, or limbo, or whatever the hell you want to call it. 

And of course I soon realise something. It's still boring. 

So they offer me another assignment. This time they guarantee me a proper living body, and everything else I think to stipulate. I'm really looking forward to doing the job. 

Next time I get a goddamned _lawyer_ to look at the small print... 

_The End_


End file.
